My Dear Brother,—Your Letter,1 eagerly expected, came to hand last Tuesday, and I now by the next Post, despatch you an answer. The Chronicle gave notice of your arrival at Dover; more explicitly your two Notes, which a benevolent “Twopenny” delivered next day. I
directly after wrote to our Mother; conveying these tidings; and promising that your Letter from Paris should be forwarded
the instant it arrived. Which promise I have now fulfilled; for yesterday I wrapped up both your Letter and your Note with
a very long Letter from myself under the same cover, and carried them over to the Advocate's to be franked; when doubtless
they will be despatched today, and so reach Scotsbrig along with the Courier on Sunday. Greatly to the joy of all, I dare
prophecy. For the rest, however, I can give you no news of those dear friends; not the smallest “scrape of a pen” having arrived here yet, tho' I wrote to Alick,
earnestly inviting him also to be a correspondent. From which I infer so much, that nothing sinister has happened, but all
things are going their old course.

As for ourselves, we have nothing but moderately tolerable news to tell you. Our Lodgings fulfil all reasonable expectation:
cleanly, reputable, honest people; the houseroom limited enough, but comfortable; and above all adapted for sleeping in to a degree hitherto unexampled. We are well nigh as quiet, and altogether as free from bed-neighbours2 as at Puttoch itself; and accordingly have oftener than once accomplished the wonderful feat of sleeping ten hours in a piece!
Jane celebrates her improving appetite, drives all headaches to flight by your Henbane (which also she has happily seldom
need of), and on the whole seems to be healthier and happier: I too am said to be improving in looks, and perhaps am really
better in health; tho' as yet except my renewed talent for sleep, I grieve to say that there is small fruit therefrom. Napier
writes that he “trusts to me for a striking Paper in the December No.”—and yesterday I was at length favoured with a copy of Hope from the Longmans: so that certainly I must at length bestir myself; but how or on what subject I shall write has nowise
become clear to me. Scribbling (Notes upon Müllner3 &c) is what I have practiced every day since you left us; but hitherto am quite out of sorts for writing; all hampered and hemmed in, not in the least at home. I know the disease of old, and know also the remedy. Doubtless, if
I stay here, there is much to be done: I am even seriously turning over the scheme of lecturing; and think I could do it and with profit were my lips once unsealed. The gross groping ignorance in which I descry many, almost all, seems to invite and demand me. We shall look at the arena
first, and then measure ourselves with it.— As to Teufelsdreck I may conclude this first section of his history in few words. Murray, on my renewed demand some days after your departure,
forwarded me the Ms with a polite enough note, and a “Criticism” from some altogether immortal “Master of German Literature,” to me quite unknown;
which Criticism (a miserable, Dandiacal, quodlibet [any thing whatever], in the usual vein) did not authorize the Publication in these times. Whereupon, inspecting the Paper to ascertain that it was all there, we (my good
Lady and I) wrapped all up, and laid it by under lock and key, to wait patiently for better times, or if so were ordered,
to the end of times: and then despatching a very cordial-looking note to Murray, wound up the whole matter, not without composure of
soul. Now that the Reform Bill is all to begin again, it may for aught I know be months before the Trade experience any revival;
thus Dreck may perhaps be considered as postponed sine die [for an indefinite period]: with which result also I am perfectly contented. What I have written I have written: the reading
of it is another party's concern.— In the economical point of view, I know not whether this other small occurrence be worth
mentioning: that Montague (whom we see sometimes quite overflowing with “blessings”) kept rather annoying me with urgencies
that I would “apply to the Lord Advocate for the Registratorship in one of the six new Bankruptcy Courts”; whereupon at last
I did transmit one of the noble Lady's Notes on that subject to his Advocateship, and farther formally called upon Montague
to testify by Letter (if his conscience permitted) that I was fitted for the station. Since which time I have at least been
rid of the Montague importunities (for the matter has never once been hinted at); Jeffrey engaged to speak of it, but seemed
to think with myself that there was hardly any hope in it; and so there it rests, in all human probability nothing more than
a miserable “chimera,”—with which, however, as I have done all that depended on myself, and did indeed care very little for success in it, I give myself no manner of uneasiness.

It will behove me, however, to get out of my own little doghutch with its interests, and tell you a little how the world is
getting along. Of our Politics I will say nothing: the Parliament is prorouged [sic] yesterday for a month, some say it will be for longer; the people are all at peace with their hands, and cackling like true
Roman geese4 with their tongues: so that it is wholly a weariness to turn oneself even for moments in that direction. Of more private
news I will tell you somewhat: it is strange how that sort of things accumulates even in a week or two. Poor Dickenson5 was well known to you: he died in the end of last month in the Edinburgh Infirmary (where he laboured as House-Surgeon) of typhus fever, caught in the discharge
of his Hospital duty. We have mourned much over him; it was a real shock to us, above most others: so innocent worthy a man,
so tragically marred in all that he had aimed at, & cut off when in sight of the goal. Wondrous are the ways of Nature, inscrutable
to our little sense.— The Advocate still complains bitterly, and I think does not mean to move from London; his general health
he calls good, but plagues himself about the disease being cancerous and what not: he suffers great pain, but can now take
an airing in the Park; the other night I had my longest conversation with him; about Literature &c &c, and have not seen him
since, nor presented your remembrances to him.— Learn also that Brougham has made six “Knights of the Guelphic Order”: Ivory,
Babbage, Herschel (Mathematicians), Charles Bell (Surgeon), Dr. Brewster, and—Professor John Leslie.6 Quack, quack, quack!— The Badamses inquire after you with the air of true friends: B. is often in Town, about his Mint Business,
which seems to make little progress; his own health and wellbeing I should reckon progressive: we have appointed to go out
and see them next Thursday.— The Montagues come much about us, and have not improved and have not sunk in my estimation since
you departed. Mill also has been here: he came once—with whom think you? With Monsieur Adolphe d'Eichthal; the same individual
that sent his Recipe to Dr Irving's, and was living in Woburn Place. Adolphe is a brisk little Jewish looking figure, very
ingenious and ingenuous: he seemed to take considerably to me; is now off to Edinburgh with Introductions from me to Moir,
Sir W. Hamilton, and Wilson, whom I warned him to expect little of. He is no St Simonian, and I guess will hardly ever be,
if your account prove prophetic. Poor St Simonians, with their Dehtanti palpitis, and red plush holes in the wall!7Bitte dich fern zu halten [Please hold yourself aloof from it].8 Adolphe is to see us when he returns: the melancholy news of his Uncle he had already with much affection confirmed to us.
Of Mill I incline to augur better than Gustave does: I think he is not a Dilettante, but a smallish Enthusiast with the worst pabulum for such a temper; not without human vanity, but also not
without reverence for what is above him. He and I were, last night, for the first time, at Fonblanque's; dining there.9 F[onblanque]. lives far away in the Edgeware Road; and is still lame with
his Gig-fall. He has a delightful Housekin, with offices &c, and a “beautiful ideal” to wife. He himself standing on crutches, all braced round with straps (of what
seemed cloth-listing) received me very handsomely: a long, thin, flail of a man, with wintry zealous looking eyes; lank, thin
hair, wide, small-chinned mouth, baggy, wrinkly care-accustomed face; greatly the air of a Radical. I observed that he had a high forehead, and low crown; as in
Müllner's head. We had a pleasant, discursive sitting; about Scotch scenery, Buonaparte, Cobbett, Immorality, and the Tax
on Tobacco. I volunteered to call again (for he can call nowhere), which was warmly welcomed. Nothing great will ever come
of the man; no genial relation will ever spring up between us: yet he is worth being known, and honoured in his way; jeder an seiner Stelle [everyone in his place]. Mill promises me two other friends: small deer, as I dread; yet will I see them gladly, being niemals menschenscheu [never shy of people], as was Schmelzle's case10 too. On the whole, this London is the most twilight intellectual city you could meet with: a meaner more utterly despicable view of man and his interests than stands pictured even in the better heads you could
nowhere fall in with.

I ought to have mentioned earlier that Mr Maclae11 called one day to say that he would carry any Letters &c to you: but I did not send any, which perhaps was as well, for I
think now you will hardly meet. Also that Dr Irving12 one morning brought me over a Letter for you from one Haig13 a Medical fellow student (for I broke it up), congratulating &c, and then asking your counsel about settling in London: “Dr
Gordon (?) had told him there was an opening in the City.” The good George undertook to answer him; in the negative. George
comes here pretty frequently, and we like him much as an honourable good young man: he and I settled handsomely, and as friends. Arbuckle14 we have also had once, with as much favour as usual; Mensbier15 has not found us out yet, but has been inquiring[.] An invitation for him was left. Glen is much desiderated: the whole Montague world (except Basil) have repeatedly assaulted
me about him: altogether for nought and in vain. These people see a quarter of an inch into everything; deeper into nothing.— Of poor Edward Irving
I have seen little and wish I had heard nothing since you went away. Alas! the “gift of tongues” has now broken loud out (last
Sunday) in his Church, the creature Campbell (or Caird or whatever she is) having started up in the forenoon; and (as the
matter was encouraged by Irving) four others in the evening, when there ensued as I learn something like a perfect Bedlam scene, some groaning, some laughing,
hooting, hooing, and several fainting. The Newspapers have got it, and call upon his people for the honour of Scotland to
leave him, or muzzle him. The most general hypothesis is that he is a quack; the milder that he is getting cracked. Poor George is the man I pity most: he spoke to us of it almost with tears in his
eyes; and earnestly entreated me to deal with his Brother; which, when he comes hither (by appointment on Tuesday) I partly mean to attempt, tho' now I fear it will
be useless. It seems likely that all the Loselism [lazy rascality] of London will be about the church next Sunday; that his people will quarrel with him; in any case, that
troublous times are appointed him. My poor friend! And yet the punishment was not unjust; that he who believed without inquiry,
should now believe against all light, and portentously call upon the world to admire as inspiration what is but a dancing
on the verge of bottomless abysses of Madness! I see not the end of it; who does?

But now, dear Brother, having so nigh filled my Paper with tattle, such as I had, let me turn for a moment specially to yourself.
I think I may congratulate you on having made a fair beginning, and promise myself that you will handsomely get thro' this
business, and find it the beginning of better. Your ideas about your course seem to me perfectly just: the rule you have to
follow is simple enough; neither do I doubt but you have force in you to follow it. Do all the good you can; willingly sacrifice
any merely selfish interest to the interest of her you have to guide: think wisely, and act wisely (as our dear Mother would
say, with the fear of God, and no fear of Man but love of him, before your eyes): who knows but you may prove a real blessing
to this Lady, whose life, all but in the matter of mere money, is as yet one of the barrenest.— For your own behoof too keep
looking, and noting (I mean writing also), and gathering insight wheresoever it is to be had. You will see lands enough and peoples enough, and may improve yourself
many ways; I wish we heard of you safe over the Alps, and could picture you in some settled state. Write the instant you read
this, and count on hearing as rapidly again. Finally, dear Brother, love me, and fare well! If better days are appointed, let us study to deserve them; if worse, to meet them. Honest
and true we may and can always be found. God be ever with you! So prays also your Sister here, and—Your faithful Brother—

T. Carlyle.

I sent on your Morning Chronicle to W. Grahame (Fleming & Hope's, Brunswick Street, Glasgow): he imagined it was in your hand, and that some delay had occurred, or thing gone wrong; and so franked me a Letter earnestly inquiring, which [I] instantly and with all affectionateness answered. I also promised Grahame that you would write to him, were you once settled:
which do.

They set all the bells to ring muffled at Annan &c when the Reform news16 came, and began petitioning: so was it over all Scotland: otherwise quiet as pussy.

We have heard from Mrs Welsh but from no one else in Dumfsre. Both Arbuckle and George desire specially to be remembered. I think they both have a real friendship for you. Napier who
wrote in bed (being sick) said nothing about your Article on Digestion: I still think you should attempt it, for your own
sake. The thinnest of paper (whence you know), but the worst of pens, the muddiest of heads: spirit willing, flesh as usual. Adieu, my beloved Brother!

The Dairlawhills farm is advertised; I advised Alick to bestir himself, as I hope he is doing. Picken is making me a grey
brock!17 Tell me your right address, and I will observe it.

1. In his letter from Paris of 13 Oct. John had written: “I begin to feel some touches of my natural elasticity & enthusiasm returning & some hopes that it is not
yet too late to come forth unscathed from the soreness & bitter depression of the past. You are not naturally of a gloomy
disposition any more than I am; but on the contrary light & frolicksome though fierce suffering & disease has made you otherwise.
We shall not be borne down much longer.” He added that he had delivered Carlyle's letter to Gustave d'Eichthal and had been
invited to dine with him at his father's. [Added on 14 Oct.:] At the dinner he had met M. Michel Chevalier (1806–79), “one of the editors of the Globe.” He had attended a meeting of the Saint-Simonians with d'Eichthal: “It was impossible
to make oneself heard without screaming quite violently. The men were dressed in blue coats lighter in colour according to
their higher rank, & most of the women in white or printed cotton except Claire Bazard & Madame Roderiguez who had also blue
gowns. A stranger admitted amongst them without knowing any thing of their sentiments might have been long in guessing their
purpose. Eichthal introduced me to Bazard [Saint-Amand Bazard (1791–1832), French socialist and Saint-Simonian]. … There was nothing peculiar in the appearance of M. Bazard, nothing in his countenance
or manner to indicate peculiar dignity or meanness. … M. Enfantin [Barthélemy Prosper Enfantin (1796–1864), leader of the Saint-Simonians] has long hair & stoops, is rather a solemn & as it seemed dubious personage. Eichthal is
a kind of enthusiast & really has the cause at heart. He looks a little sad & speaks of the violence of their enemies at the
same time that he mentions their extending connexions. I am told that their present strength & influence in Paris is less
than it was a few months after the Revolution, & that the novelty & boldness of their speculations & terminology have lost
much of their interest. … I may mention that Eichthal told me he thought John Mill a sort of dilettante, without heart to
speak out his convictions. His incapability of laughing is the most suspicious circumstance about him, & if Eichthal's representation
be true it must be another confirmation of Teufelsdreck's theory.”

3. See TCJWC to MAC, [6 Oct.]. In Two Note Books (pp. 211–12) Carlyle writes about this time: “Müllner is not written or perhaps worth writing; however the rude materials of it are on paper, and lie tied up with packthread,
abiding their time.” Carlyle's notebooks also mention the possibility of a course of lectures, of which “the subject should
be ‘Things in general’ (under some more dignified title).”

4. The geese who woke the defending Romans on the Capitoline Hill when it was attacked (390 B.C.).

5. Samuel Dickenson, whose obituary Carlyle appears to have read in the Scotsman (1 Oct.). He was a medical student who was of exceptional promise and deeply regretted: “His Surgical attainments were of a high order,” and he is said to have been “as much endeared by his engaging manners, amiable disposition,
and active benevolence, as he was respected for his superior scientific acquirements.” He was buried at Haddington.

6. Those that Carlyle says were knighted were: James Ivory (1765–1842), mathematician, former professor at the Royal Military College; Charles Babbage (1792–1871), mathematician, professor at Cambridge, inventor of a calculating machine; John Frederick William Herschel (1792–1871), astronomer; Charles Bell (1774–1842), surgeon; for Dr. David Brewster (1781–1868), see TC to AC, 23 Feb. 1819; and for John Leslie (1766–1832), see TC to RM, 15 July 1816. This was evidently told Carlyle by Jeffrey. In fact, Babbage was never knighted, and of the rest Bell and Herschel had been
knighted on 12 Oct., the others later, all possibly in connection with their work for the foundation of the British Association for the Advancement
of Science in 1831. The “Guelphic Order” had previously been founded (in 1815) as a military order.

7. John had said in his letter: “Claire Bazard or Made Roderiguez … sung Di tanti palpiti in a rough masculine style.” Cf. JBW to EA, 11 April 1825. John had also described the rooms where the Saint-Simonians met as “holes in the walls square shaped, lined with red silk
cushions.”

8. Carlyle repeats the advice given to him by Goethe in his letter of 17 Oct. 1830.

9. Mill's estimate of Carlyle at this time is given in a letter of 20–22 Oct. to John Sterling (Mineka, XII, 85–86), whom Carlyle would not meet until Feb. 1835: “Another acquaintance which I have recently made is that of Mr. Carlyle, whom I believe you are also acquainted with. I
have long had a very keen relish for his articles in the Edinburgh & Foreign Reviews, which I formerly thought to be such
consummate nonsense; and I think he improves upon a nearer acquaintance. He does not seem to me so entirely the reflexion
or shadow of the great German writers as I was inclined to consider him; although undoubtedly his mind has derived from their
inspiration whatever breath of life is in it. He seems to me as a man who has had his eyes unsealed, and who now looks round
him & sees the aspects of things with his own eyes, but by the light supplied by others; not the pure light of day, but another
light compounded of the same simple rays but in different proportions. He has by far the largest & widest liberality & tolerance
(not in the sense which Coleridge justly disavows, but in the good sense) that I have met with in any one; & he differs from
most men who see as much as he does into the defects of the age, by a circumstance greatly to his advantage in my estimation,
that he looks for a safe landing before and not behind: he sees that if we could replace things as they once were, we should only retard the final issue, as we should in all human
probability go on just as we then did, & arrive again at the very place where we now stand. Carlyle intends staying in town
all the winter: he has brought his wife to town (whom I have not seen enough of yet to be able to judge of her at all): his
object was to treat with booksellers about a work which he wishes to publish, but he has given up this for the present, finding
that no bookseller will publish anything but a political pamphlet in the present state of excitement. In fact literature is
suspended; men neither read nor write. Accordingly Carlyle means to employ his stay here in improving his knowledge of what
is going on in the world, at least in this part of it, I mean in that part of the world of ideas and feelings which corresponds
to London. He is a great hunter-out of acquaintances; he hunted me out, or rather hunted out the author of certain papers
in the Examiner (the first, as he said, which he had ever seen in a newspaper, hinting that the age was not the best of all
possible ages): & his acquaintance is the only substantial good I have yet derived from writing those papers, & a much greater
one than I expected when I wrote them. He has also, through me, sought the acquaintance of Fonblanque (of the Examiner) whom
I found him to be an admirer of, and who though as little of a mystic as most men, reads his writing with pleasure.”

10. In Richter's “Schmelzle's Journey to Flaetz,” translated by Carlyle and published in German Romance. The meeting at Fonblanque's is also described in Two Note Books, pp. 213–14.